


Heist! (From Milan with Love)

by Mayamali



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Dress Up, Espionage, Gen, Guns, Infiltration, Minor Character Death, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Spy plays wingman for a hot second, they just friends fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-10 09:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayamali/pseuds/Mayamali
Summary: Miss Pauling's been tasked with eliminating a rogue ex-agent and retrieving a stolen pound of Australium. Unfortunately, this means infiltrating a fancy ball in Milan, which means she needs a little help from an expert.





	1. Chapter 1

It was only very rarely that Miss Pauling would take on a mission that didn't involve disposing of thirty or so corpses in a wood chipper. But the Administrator had said, "This requires the utmost discretion", so here she was, waking up on a private jet after a very nice rest in a private cot. A former employee in Milan had decided that company assets - namely, a pound of Australium - was worth enough to sell for a small island in the Pacific.

What an idiot, she thought to herself as she stretched, entering the main sitting area and taking a seat.

It would've been easy enough to sneak in, set up a kill room, put a bullet in his head, and fly back. Hell, she could've done that with her eyes closed. Unfortunately, Luck wasn't on her side this time. Because, as luck would have it, this 'idiot' was smart enough to make the sale at a ballroom party hosted by a local artist, the eccentric type with a lot of money and a lot of time. She couldn't make a move in such a public place. No, this job would require some stealth, and... well, she was sneaky, but not to the degree needed for this.

Fortunately, she and the Administrator both knew someone who was. And he was more than willing to get out of New Mexico, even if only for a few days.

"You've been practicing your Italian, I hope?" Spy said, legs leisurely crossed over each other as he held a cigarette.

"Yeahhh?" Miss Pauling said unconvincingly. "I'm not, like. Fluent or anything."

"If worst comes to worst, I'll do the talking."

She sighed, looking out the plane's window as Milan approached underneath them before fixing her attention on the photograph sitting on the table between their seats. Nolan Bradshaw - a door-to-door vacuum salesman before he joined RED. Worked with the company for three years before the Administrator fired him. An unremarkable guy, overall, but she forced herself to memorize how his cheeks and chin and eyes looked. "If we do it right, there shouldn't be much talking involved."

"Indeed." Spy uncrossed his legs, snuffing out his cigarette in an ashtray next to the photograph that he regarded for only a moment. "So. Monitor the ballroom until we find him, tail him until he goes to make the sale, apprehend him, and neutralize him. Simple enough."

"At least it isn't Carnival. Although your mask might be a little obvious."

Spy shrugged, unable to contain a coy smirk. "People enjoy the intrigue, I find."

Miss Pauling had to fight to keep herself from rolling her eyes. "The party isn't until tomorrow night, so we'll get some time to go over the specifics."

"And buy you a new wardrobe."

Her head snapped up at that. "What?"

"Well." Spy gestured to her. "That is a good look for you, but it would stand out in a ballroom."

"You want to go _shopping_?"

"Listen. Italian clothing is one of a kind. It'd be a shame to visit and not pick something out for yourself. But it's simply practical, as well."

Miss Pauling sighed inwardly. She was afraid of this conversation. He was right, of course. She'd stand out like a sore thumb in her usual clothes. Still, she knew that a dress outside of that usual style would just collect dust in her closet until the end of time. "Fine. But we're not going to spend a fortune on a dress I'm only going to wear once."

"Of course not." He said it casually, but it was hard to tell if he meant it. That was the downside of hiring someone who made a living off of deception.

The jet touched down as the sun was high in the sky over Milan, and Miss Pauling couldn't hold back a yawn as she grabbed her bags from storage. Jet lag was very real and she hated it. But she took a little joy in seeing Spy look away, trying to stifle a yawn of his own. Looked like he was just as susceptible to jet lag as anyone else. He can't be good at everything, she told herself with a nod.

First things first: the safe house, which was actually a hotel, because no one had had to use the safe house in Milan in literal years. It was nice, with marble tiling in the bathroom and room service - the whole nine yards.

She fell backward onto one of the two beds and groaned as she seemed to just melt into the mattress. It was a hell of a lot better than a cot 40,000 feet in the air. She found herself drifting off again as Spy hogged the bathroom to shave and only woke up again to him dropping her suitcase next to her head. "I'm up!" She jolted upright, opening her eyes and then squeezing them shut again as they ached from the sudden exposure to light.

"I know you need your beauty sleep," Spy said with an amused smile. "But we should get going."

"You're still dead-set on this shopping thing, huh?" Miss Pauling sighed, looking through her suitcase for her brush.

"What can I say?" He paused, looking up at the window. The curtains were still drawn. "It's been a long time since I've come to Italy."

Miss Pauling paused in her attempts to tame her hair. "How long?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Spy was silent for a second, making her think he wasn't going to answer. She was about to change the subject when he said, "Ten... no, eleven years."

"Wow." A comment both at the time and the fact he'd told her at all. She'd seen his file, of course, but he'd somehow managed to still maintain a sense of mystery even with her resources.

"But if you would feel more comfortable going over the plan again, we should. You are in charge here."

Well, _that_ was something she didn't hear often. Miss Pauling nodded, finally taming her hair enough to tie it back again. "Alright. Let's look at the map, figure out entrance and exits. Then... I guess we can take some time to walk around."

Spy nodded. He had the decency not to look too excited, at least.

They spent a good few hours looking over the floor plans that Miss Pauling had pulled during her research. "It's an informal party," she said, circling the main hall with a red pen. "They won't be looking for invitations."

"So in a perfect world, we could just walk in and out."

Miss Pauling couldn't help but smile a little at that. "Best case scenario. But it's probably not going to be that easy, so I've marked a few more exits just in case. There's a garden in the back we could get through either from the back porch or, worst case, there's a lattice that goes up to the third floor we could climb down."

"Like savages." Spy rolled his eyes dramatically.

"We might not have a choice, Spy. But like I said, worst case." She pulled out the second page of the floor plan, circling a room labeled 'library' towards the end of the hall. "The trade-off is going to happen here. The majority of the second floor will be welcome to guests that want to get away from the party, but this half of the floor is off-limits with security."

"Do we have a timeline?"

"Party starts at seven, and everyone's encouraged to leave by midnight. We're not sure what time the trade's going to happen, so our first order of business is to find Nolan and tail him - like you said - without being suspicious."

"Easy enough." Spy leaned back, rubbing his hands together. "The thrill of the hunt."

Miss Pauling raised her eyebrow at him. "Excited?"

"This is much better than stealing papers. Is there anything else of note?"

"Not until we get in there." Miss Pauling nodded and starts to roll up the floor plans again to stash in her suitcase. "But we should probably think of a cover just in case someone asks -"

"My name is Rosario Guarneri," Spy said casually, pulling out a cigarette. "Born and raised in Sicily, spent time in France to study and live with relatives, hence the accent. I come from a line of bakers, but am leaving the family business to my sister and her husband while I work as a sculptor."

She blinked. "Did... you make that up just now?"

"I have a series of aliases that I have on hand. Just in case."

"Of course you do."

"You can come up with your own as we wander." Spy stood, adjusting his cuffs and holding his hand out to help her stand up.

Walking around Milan was interesting. She very obviously looked like a foreigner. She didn't need Spy to translate the various comments men would make after watching her long enough that she wanted to take a page from Scout's book and beat them with a baseball bat.

They'd stopped to get some coffee and pastries when she finally came up with a cover that she thought was solid enough. "Violet Lindsman," she confided to Spy as they sat outside. "A business graduate student from New York."

"Family?" Spy prodded, taking a bite of his sfogliatella.

"Uh... my mother sells Avon. My father's an architect."

"Siblings?"

"Only child."

Spy mused on this for a moment, then nodded. "Good. A little bare, but it will suffice. It will also excuse your Italian."

"My accent isn't bad. It's just the vocabulary."

And then came the part that Miss Pauling had been dreading, unable to hide a frown as Spy led her into a boutique. She idly looked at the racks of dresses that cost more than she'd make in two months as he talked to a sales associate. "This is a mistake," she said as the associate measured her and left to pick out a few items.

"Just relax. Tell yourself it's for the mission." She looked up to see him wink at her slyly.

Eventually, the associate brought her three dresses. The first was a straight-up ballgown with a high neck, navy blue in color. She didn't make it four steps out of the dressing room before Spy waved her to go back in, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The second was long, streamlined, and white with solid stripes of red down the sides. Spy studied her for a moment as she examined herself in a mirror, furrowing her brows. "It's nice," she offered.

"Yes," he said neutrally, which made her nervous. Spy was one of the most opinionated people she'd ever met. He was never really neutral about anything. "Try the last one."

She felt like an idiot, parading around in dresses when the Administrator had sent her here on company money. She couldn't even afford any of these. With a sigh, she grabbed the third dress; knee-length, drapey, and an admittedly pretty violet color with some vine embellishments.

The sales associate muttered something to Spy as she came out, looking a little smug. But Spy wasn't paying attention. He sat up straight, examining her for a long moment. "I do kind of like it," she admitted, lifting the skirt up a little just to watch the layers fall.

She could see Spy nod in the mirror. "It's very nice. A little simple, maybe, but it shouldn't look too out of place."

"It's pretty maneuverable, too."

"Alright. Shall we, then?"

Miss Pauling blinked, looking over her shoulder at him. "How much is it?"

Spy waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. What's your shoe size?"

"Spy," she said warningly, turning around in full. "You are not paying for this."

"I'm not? Funny, my wallet seems to disagree. What's your shoe size?" he repeated, raising a brow at her pointedly. They stared at each other for a long moment, Miss Pauling furrowing her brows and unwittingly pouting a little at him. He finally sighed and said, "If you don't tell me, I'll guess."

Miss Pauling realized then that he was serious. She sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat before she begrudgingly said, "...I'm a seven."

Spy nodded, standing up and sauntering to the register with a dismissive wave. "Go ahead and change back."

When she emerged from the dressing room with the dress back on its hanger, the associate quickly snatched it away to ring it up. "Spy, you know you can't write this off as an expense."

"Miss Pauling," he said easily, opening his wallet to pull out a truly ludicrous amount of Italian lire. "My suit is a custom-made Louis Crabbemarché. It cost $10,000. Trust me, this is nothing."

She sighed as the transaction completed. Well, she was locked into this now, for better or worse.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Yes, but - no, that's not going to work. Well, tell him that he can either follow through with it or take the severance package. No, that was a euphemism - I'm going to kill him, is what I'm trying to say. Yeah, thanks."

Miss Pauling hung up her satellite phone with a groan and started to punch in another number when she noticed Spy staring at her, lip twisted upward in a one-sided smile. "What?" she asked.

He gestured to the table in front of her. "They delivered your food three minutes ago and you haven't noticed."

She blinked, looking down at the table. Sure enough, there was a plate sitting in front of her. "Oh. Sorry. There's a lot of things I still need to check on for work."

"Well, at the very least, eat before it gets cold." Spy sipped his wine pointedly. Maybe. Miss Pauling thought everything he did has some kind of emphasis to it, but maybe she was just reading into it too much.

He'd offered to treat her to dinner once they'd dropped her dress off at the hotel. She'd agreed, but she had also been in the middle of writing a report and wasn't quite listening when he talked about where, exactly, he'd be taking her. In fact, she was pretty sure that she'd gone from the hotel to being seated without once ever looking up from her folders.

She sighed, pushing her things aside to pick up her fork and dig in. "So," Spy said eventually. "Even when you're working, you're working."

"There's a lot that needs to get done, and I'm the only one the Administrator trusts to do it." Miss Pauling shrugged, taking a moment to pause as she actually tasted the risotto on her plate. "...Oh wow, this is good."

"Yes. You have quite the work ethic."

"Well, the whole world could fall apart if I'm not careful. I kind of have to."

"Such is the price of this line of business." Spy hummed quietly, craning his neck to look at the top file. "I suggest you refrain from threatening someone's life in the middle of a restaurant, though. We're lucky that it's a quiet night."

Miss Pauling flushed a little at that, averting her gaze. Right. There were other, normal people here. "That's, uh, solid advice. Thanks." As much as she needed to get this work done, she forced herself to put the phone back in her purse and focus on her dinner. "So," she said after a second. "I never really get to check in with you."

"Well," Spy said, gesturing to her purse. "You're very busy."

"Yeah. But I should probably do better at supervising."

"Or we could just talk."

Miss Pauling shrugged. "Yeah, I guess we could do that, too. Uh - have you heard of the artist throwing this party? Michele Abate?"

Spy shook his head. "The name isn't familiar. He's probably new money."

"Yeah. I mean, a ballroom dance party? All he had to do was make it a masquerade to hit artist bingo."

Spy chuckled at that, pouring himself some more wine; he'd bought a whole bottle, of course, and Miss Pauling was only able to take a few sips before she gave up. Raisins and gasoline, all of it. He wasn't very impressed, but thankfully, he didn't push the issue. "What he will do is wear a mask anyway to make himself stand out. Artists always have a flair for the dramatic. That's why most of my cover stories include being an artist in some way."

"So you can just say the mask is part of your aesthetic."

"Exactly."

"Although you could probably just use a disguise, too."

Spy waved his hand. "Where's the fun in that?"

As they talked, Miss Pauling relaxed. For as stuffy and pretentious and French as Spy was sometimes, he was good company here where she was out of her element.

Of course, the break didn't last long. As soon as they got back to the hotel, she was right back to work, bent over the desk and scribbling out her reports and stepping onto the balcony for several heated phone calls.

She woke up to the sound of the curtains being drawn. She'd fallen asleep over her desk, glasses knocked crooked as she'd propped her head up against her arms. Spy was holding a cup of plain black coffee, silently handing it over to her. "Thanks," she said sheepishly, taking it with no small amount of appreciation.

"I wasn't sure how you take it."

"This is fine." She took a sip, re-organizing the disaster zone that she'd created overnight.

"Did you want breakfast? I was going to get room service."

"Uh - sure, just something light."

As she settled back in to finish some more reports, Spy placed the room service order and then just... went silent. She had to look over her shoulder a few times just to make sure he was still there. Yep. Sipping his coffee and idly thumbing through a magazine.

Everything was uneventful until Spy suggested they get lunch and solidify the plan, and as he pulled his jacket out of the closet and swung it over his shoulders, something fluttered out of a pocket and onto the floor. Miss Pauling got to it first, flipping it over.

A photograph of him and a woman holding hands as they walked down a street. Oh hell - she remembered this. A solo mission the Administrator had sent Spy on a long time ago as a test. She'd taken interest in his reaction to the photographs they'd had of him, and this one in particular She was only able to look at it for a few seconds before Spy took hold of the top of the photograph and cleared his throat.

"Sorry," she said, letting it go and tucking her hair behind her ear.

"It's fine," he said, slipping the photo back into his pocket. "Shall we?"

It was only when they got back to the hotel that Miss Pauling remembered the true challenge of the night. She laid her dress out on the opposite bed while Spy showered, furrowing her brow a little. Spy had gotten her some relatively practical shoes with a low heel, just enough maintain formality without being difficult to move in Eventually, she sighed and gave in, carefully getting dressed. With fabric like this, she didn't want to mess it up somehow. It still looked amazing, and she still felt ridiculously out of place in it.

"It could use some jewelry," Spy's voice came from the bathroom door, causing her to jump a little. "But it's still very flattering on you."

"You're just saying that because you bought it," she retorted, rolling her eyes.

"It's a little too late to be modest, Miss Pauling," he shot back, but she could hear the smile in his voice. "But you should blend in on the dance floor at least."

Miss Pauling was in the middle of pulling her hair up into a higher bun than usual - if she was going to be dressed up and since she had time, she was willing to put a little more effort into her hair - but froze at those words. "What do you mean? I don't, like, have to dance. Do I?"

Spy shrugged as he buttoned his shirt. "Well, you could just be a wallflower all night, but it would make you stand out more." He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

Miss Pauling laughed a little nervously. "Well. I - I don't have a lot of personal time, you know, and it's not like I ever needed to learn."

"You don't know how to dance?"

"I thought we could just be in and out! You know, mingle by the hors-d'oeuvres."

Spy pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Yes. But the easiest way to gain information is to blend in." He shook his head and stepped towards her, holding out his hand. "Come here."

She turned around, blinking at him. "What? Why?"

"Just trust me."

"Says the guy that taught a six-year-old how to stab a man in the jugular." Still, she sighed and met him in the middle of the room, where he promptly reached down and took her hand.

"You should at least know a box step," he said. "Don't worry. All you have to do is follow along."

"Do we have time for this?"

Spy ignored her, putting his other hand on her waist and rolling his eyes when she gave him a look. "You're too young for me, ma calinette. This is basic formation for a waltz. Put your other hand on my arm."

Miss Pauling hesitated but followed his direction.

"This won't take but a few minutes. You're just going to mirror me. I step back with my left foot, you step forward with your right, et cetera. Alright?"

Despite her firm belief this was going to go sideways in the worst way possible, she nodded. "Okay."

He led her into a very slow step, picking up speed as she got more comfortable and letting go of her hand to tilt her chin up when she looked down to watch her footing. "Never look down."

"I'm going to step on you."

"Not if you trust me."

She spent a good half of an hour learning the basics and only stepped on him a few times, which was frankly a miracle. He only let her go after a quick glance at his watch showed they only had another hour before they had to leave. "Well, you should be able to blend in at least," he said, adjusting his cuffs.

"I'll probably forget by tomorrow." She paused at the disapproving look he gave her, and quickly added, "Not for lack of trying! On your part. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Although if you'd like, if you ever have the time, I could teach you how to lead in a waltz instead. From my experience, women like someone who knows their way around a dance floor."

Miss Pauling sputtered a bit at that, looking away as she felt her cheeks heat up. "I, uh... thanks, but that's not really on my list of priorities."

Spy shrugged, but he had a coy smile on his face. "Alright. The offer still stands."

They finished getting ready in silence, and Spy flagged down a taxi once they'd left the hotel. "Here we go," she said to herself once they were situated in the cab, feeling a ball of nerves settle in her stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

As the cab pulled up to the manor and Spy pulled out his wallet to pay, Miss Pauling couldn't stifle a quiet "Wow". It was gorgeous, three stories and opulent. She reached for the handle to the car door. But Spy leaned forward to stop her, pressing his arm across her chest and holding up a finger before getting out.

"Really?" she said as he circled around to open her door for her, offering his arm.

"It's all about appearances," he said as he helped her out of the cab and towards the front entrance. "Play along for now."

Pauling rolled her eyes, but clung to Spy's arm anyway, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. Other couples and some lone attendees were making their way to the front doors, and she couldn't help but feel out of place.

Spy seemed to sense her discomfort and patted her hand. "Remember. It's only until we find him."

"Right." She cleared her throat, furrowing her brows as they climbed the steps and entered the manor.

It was bright, and there were bodies everywhere. Live ones, even. Pauling squinted across the room, hoping they'd get lucky and find Nolan right away. But it was too crowded to get a clear look at any faces that weren't right in front of her.

"Grazie," she heard Spy say, looking over to see a female server hand him a glass of champagne. He held the glass over to Pauling and took another for himself. She took it after a moment's hesitation and rep his thanks. The server smiled and glanced up and down at her before moving on. Spy watched after her for a moment, raising a brow as he sipped from his glass.

"Focus on the mission, Spy," she muttered to him, frowning. Five seconds into the mission and he was checking girls out. Unbelievable.

"I am."

Pauling rolled her eyes and led him towards the refreshments table. It wasn't as crowded as the dance floor, and it'd give her a better chance to scope the room out.

Stairs on the back wall led to a balcony area and the second-floor rooms. They'd passed a few bathrooms and a sitting room on their way here, but they'd seemed vacant. After all, this was where the party was.

She felt Spy pull on her arm, and she turned around. Her heart sank as she noticed a rather boisterous-looking man making his way towards them. She glanced up and noticed even Spy looked a little unnerved. "Spy," she warned.

"It's alright. Let me do the talking. Raul!" Spy let her go to greet the man. They conversed in Italian for a moment as she drank her champagne. She drained her glass when he - Raul, she guessed - turned his gaze to her and muttered something to Spy with a laugh that nearly deafened her.

Spy cleared his throat and replied just low enough that she couldn't make it out.

He laughed again and held his arms out to her. She forced a smile and greeted him, giving Spy a quick glare when Raul wasn't paying attention. "Rosario has suckered you in, eh?" he said in English, a sly gleam in his eye.

"I don't know about that," she said with a nervous laugh.

"Doesn't come to visit in ten years and he's got a new girl. Just like him!" Behind Raul, Spy had the expression of someone who was trying not to pay attention to what was being said. It was kind of funny to watch, and she couldn't help but smile at it. "He says you're American."

"Uh - yeah. Violet," she offered. At this point, she tried to take one more sip of her champagne only to realize it was gone. So instead, she cleared her throat and set the empty glass down on the table. "I'm sorry, I'm not used to... this."

"They don't have parties like this in America, eh?" He laughed again. It was starting to get less irritating now; he didn't seem like too bad of a guy now that she was actually talking to him. Just very physically imposing. And loud.

"If they do, I've never been to one."

Raul's interest eventually led him elsewhere, but he kissed her cheeks two more times before finally leaving. "Sorry," Spy said, handing her a glass of water. "I should have expected Raul would be here."

"Friend of yours?"

"Something like that." Spy rolled his shoulder, glancing around the ballroom again. "Let's split up, do a quick walk-around. I'll meet you back here."

"Right." Pauling took another drink and stepped away to start a patrol. She moved slowly, making sure she wasn't too noticeable. The same female server offered her another glass of champagne, and Pauling accepted. But there was something about the way the server smiled at her that was suspicious. Pauling watched as the server ducked through the crowd and disappeared before resuming her search.

It was hard, like trying to find a severed arm in a pile of bodies. But she thought she caught a glimpse of Nolan by the door back to the foyer. By the time she was able to get there, though, he was gone. She sighed, drinking the rest of her champagne and setting the glass down before peering into the foyer. Nothing.

"I think I had eyes on him," she said once she met back with Spy, a few steps away from where they'd started. "He ducked out into the foyer."

"Hm." Spy paused in whatever he was going to say, looking ahead. "Well. We can look for him in a moment. There's a proposition incoming."

"What?" She barely had time to turn around before a pretty plain-looking man stepped up to her with a nervous smile.

"Pardon me," he said, accent thick. "May I have the next dance?"

"Uh," she said, glancing back at Spy, who nodded. "Sure."

He bowed his head, still smiling, and held out his hand. Tentatively, she took it, letting him lead her to the center of the room. When they stopped, she looked back and saw Spy was gone. Great.

She snapped back to attention as the music started and forced herself to remember: left hand on his arm, right hand in his hand, and _for God's sake,_ _don't look down_ -

Okay. They were going. This was fine. Pauling could feel that she was too tense, but she was fighting every instinct to look at her feet or find an out.

"My name is Antino. You're not used to this, are you?" her dance partner said, trying to sound conversational but not quite managing to stifle the awkwardness. He had a somewhat uneasy smile on his face.

"No, I'm not," she answered honestly, forcing a sheepish laugh. "Uh, I'm P - Violet." Through the shifting crowd, she spotted Spy, occupied with a dance partner of his own. She couldn't help but furrow her brow a bit. One of them should have been on the sidelines, keeping an eye out.

Antino pulled her forward, snapping her out of her thoughts and causing her to trip up a little with a gasp. "Sorry," he said, stopping to let her re-adjust.

"It's okay." She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but couldn't tell if it was effective. They started again after a beat.

It was only when he started to guide her into a turn that it dawned on her why Spy was dancing too. They were moving. It was an easy, discreet way of scanning the entire room. Her smile became a little more genuine at the realization, and she settled back into the dance.

The song was over pretty soon, and they pulled apart to bow again and applaud the musicians. Pauling only had a second to recover before he saw him.

Nolan was standing by the stairs leading to the second floor, trying to look nonchalant and failing. She turned away when his gaze fell in her direction, focusing on finding Spy in the crowd.

It seemed he'd had the same idea. They bumped into each other in the mass of bodies, Pauling's glasses falling askew from the contact. She quickly fixed them and grabbed his arm. "Eyes on Nolan. Staircase."

Spy nodded, glancing towards the stairs "He's going up." He quietly led her towards the staircase, trying to move quickly but without attracting attention.

Nolan had climbed to the top of the staircase and was heading towards a door on the far right end of the hallway. They waited until he had disappeared from view to follow.

There were two guards stationed outside the door. It wasn't worth it to try and get past them. So instead, she went through the opposite door to the half of the floor open to guests. Spy followed, putting his hand on the small of her back to guide her around the people milling about the balcony.

As soon as they were able to get to a private section of the hallway, Pauling hiked up her dress to reveal the gun hostler on her thigh - Spy's idea. It felt weird, but she couldn't deny that it was pretty handy. Meanwhile, he'd stuck with a simple shoulder holster under his tux, and his knife was easy to hide in a pocket. He flipped it open without even looking at it and nodded to her.

Go time.

Pauling nodded back and pulled out her revolver, starting to move down the hallway. It was stop-and-go as they tried to avoid raising any suspicion from the stragglers sneaking off to guest bedrooms or wandering the hall. Eventually, the guests disappeared, leaving them alone in the restricted part of the floor.

Pauling remembered the library was at the far end of the hall. But as she peered around the corner, she saw a security guard heading down the hall towards them. She looked back to Spy and held up a finger. He nodded and raised his arm to click a button on his watch. Pauling watched as he slowly faded from view and disappeared.

Man. The mercs really _did_ get the best weapons, she thought to herself.

She looked around the corner again to see the guard coming closer. But Spy reappeared right behind him, pulled a hand over his mouth, and drove his knife deep into his back.

Pauling stepped out from the corner and moved forward as Spy pulled the guard's body into a side room. "Well. Only one body so far," she whispered, pausing to listen for any more activity. "That's a lot less than I thought we'd have by now."

"You underestimate me," Spy replied. He sounded a little hurt.

"No, I _over-_ estimate you. You could probably kill everyone in that ballroom in an hour." Pauling gestured for him to be quiet as they approached the library, and she pressed her ear to the door. She could hear muffled voices, one of which was Nolan Bradshaw's.

She nodded at Spy, mouthing, 'What's the plan?'

Spy gestured to wait, and she nodded. It'd be easier to apprehend him alone and find the buyer later -

Her train of thought was interrupted by a gunshot ringing through the air. She jumped back from the door, looking to Spy again with wide eyes. He stepped forward and kicked the door open.

There, lying on the floor with a bullet in his forehead, was Nolan Bradshaw. His eyes were still open, wide in shock, and three other men were standing over his body. One of them, a man who had way too much pomade in his hair, was holding a briefcase. He looked at them with eyebrows raised for just a moment before regaining his composure. "This area's off-limits," he said coldly.

"Hand over the Australium," Pauling said, raising her gun.

The other two men in the room pulled their guns out of their holsters and took aim. Spy had the sense to tackle Pauling behind a bookcase as they opened fire. "Merde," he muttered, snapping his knife closed and pulling out his gun.

"Looks like the sale was a set-up," Pauling said out loud, more to herself than anything. This made things a little more complicated. "On three?"

Spy nodded, counting down from three with his fingers before motioning to move. In tandem, they moved from behind the briefcase to return fire.

Their aim was much better than the guards', and with four cumulative shots, they dropped to the ground. Spy stood, examining his gun with a frown. "This needs calibrating," he said.

"I'll reimburse you when we get back. We need to go."

The man with the briefcase had disappeared. Pauling went to look out into the hallway, and Spy moved towards the window. "Miss Pauling," he said with a sigh. "To the garden."

"The lattice," she concluded, unable to hide a smile. "Sorry, Spy."

"Well. Dirt is easier to clean than blood."

Pauling kicked off her shoes, dropping them out the window where they fell with a clatter. Then, she followed, climbing out the window and onto the lattice herself. Spy took her arm to help steady her and waited until she was halfway down to follow.

The man with the briefcase was swiftly making his way through the garden. Pauling picked up her shoes in one hand and held her gun with the other to pursue him. Nolan might have been taken care of, but if this stranger got away with the Australium, they'd never see it again. She just needed to get close enough to aim.

Pauling could see the man ducking behind trees and brush, trying to lose them. But something she'd learned from reviewing the footage of the team fighting was that people were never as clever as they thought they were.

She took a deep breath, raised her revolver to point just to the left of where the man was running, and fired.

Her instincts had been right. The bullet tore right into the man's leg, and he hit the ground hard. Spy burst forward to dig his knee into the man's back and hold him in place. "Nice shot," he said, looking up at Pauling as she approached. He actually sounded and looked impressed.

She took a moment to bask in the pride that welled up in her chest before training her gun back on the man. She kicked the briefcase away, just enough to open it and confirm it was full of Australium.

The man spat on the ground and started to say something in a language she couldn't make out. Spy pistol-whipped him halfway through his rant. "That's no way to speak to a lady," he said sharply.

"Do you have any idea how much that is worth?" the man asked, looking at the briefcase.

"Yeah. Nolan's life. And yours."

"I am Zachariasz Radzim, and my family will have your heads!"

Pauling paused at that, furrowing her brows. "Radzim. Oh, the Polish crime family?"

Spy stifled a laugh. "If you can even call them that. Small-time."

Zachariasz hissed something else in Polish. "I will show you who is - !"

Pauling had had enough. She raised her gun and shot him point blank in the head. "I'll make sure to send out a grievance package," she said, holstering her gun.

Spy nodded, wiping some stray blood splatter off of his mask and standing. "Well. Bradshaw is dead and the Australium is back in our hands. Check it for tracking. I will take care of Mister... Radzim here."

"Thanks." She turned to re-examine the briefcase as Spy dragged the body away into the brush. Sure enough, there was a small bug attached by the hinge of the handle. She picked it off and tossed it into a small fountain nearby. "Mission accomplished. Let's get out of here."

Spy took a moment to help her clean up before they went back into the manor. Her hair and dress had gotten a bit tussled in the chase. They would attract attention if she walked in looking that disheveled.

"You did very well," Spy said, taking her arm as they headed back through the ballroom.

"Thanks." Pauling hesitated before saying, "I had some good back-up."

"Of course you did." She rolled her eyes again at the lack of humbleness. Not that she expected anything else from him. They got to the foyer when Spy glanced behind him and let her go. "Go ahead. I'll be right there." She looked at him quizzically, watching as he headed back into the ballroom. She shook her head and headed out the front doors.

Spy followed after a few moments, holding a slip of paper. "You had to get a phone number before the night was out, right?"

"Yes." In a move that surprised her, he held the paper out to her. "For you."

"What?"

"That server had been eyeing you all night. I thought I would do you a favor."

Pauling blinked. She looked from the paper to Spy's face, taking in the subtle smirk on his face. Finally, it clicked, and she sputtered. "Oh. Wait. What? I thought she was spying on us."

"Of course you did." Pauling glanced to the side and begrudgingly took the paper. It had never occurred to her that the server was being genuine. Spy took her arm again, and now he was exuding smugness as he led her towards a row of taxis. "When in Italy..."

"Kill a few guys."

The rest of the night and the subsequent flight home passed uneventfully, with Spy helping himself to some Italian cigars and champagne. She still couldn't stand the taste of wine, but she had a glass as well. It was more of a celebratory thing than anything.

"Well, this certainly could have gone worse," he said, raising his glass in cheers. His voice was pleased and almost... a little proud. "To a job well done."

"Cheers," she said, clinking her glass against his.

She presented the briefcase to the Administrator during the debriefing. "Well, that's one less thing to worry about," the Administrator said, snapping the briefcase shut once she'd looked it over herself. "I trust the Spy was helpful in this mission."

Pauling nodded, unable to hide a smile. "Yeah. Very helpful."

"Hrm." The Administrator turned in her chair, setting the briefcase down under her desk. "Well. There are a million other things to take care of, aren't there?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll get on it."

Miss Pauling settled down at her work table, and the first thing she did was sign a reimbursement form to get Spy's gun calibrated. As interesting as Italy had been, there was still a lot to do. Work waited for no man.

And it especially didn't wait for her.


End file.
